She woke with a start from a sound slumber. The doorbell was ringing incessantly. As if there was an angry woodpecker who had taken offense with the chimes and was then trying to disable them by jack-hammering its beak against the button.
She grabbed her robe, tossing its familiar warmth over her thin pajamas. She didn’t bother with her slippers. Judging by the sound of that doorbell, her time was best spent racing to the door to get whoever was on the other side to go away.
“Who the fuck is it?” She yelled as she unlocked and then swung the door open. It wasn’t until the corpse’s hands slid around her neck that Chelsea remembered, her apartment doesn’t have a doorbell.
On a side note.
Why don’t movies or books about apocalypses ever address the problem that is sure to arise when the many nuclear power plants around the world:
- go unmanned because all the workers are: zombies, suddenly blind, at home dying from the super flu…etc.
- fall apart during the earthquake
- find themselves submerged when the tsunami hits
- freeze when the sudden ice age hits
- systems fail when the electricity suddenly goes out
and so on?
In case it isn’t obvious, I’m in a “mood”. sigh.
Hope you’re having a good day though.